


Home is wherever I'm with you

by LakeGirl



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 19:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10225493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakeGirl/pseuds/LakeGirl
Summary: A different POV scene plus an alternate ending to the beautiful fic "A Burden Shared" by WerewolvesAreReal.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Burden Shared](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039985) by [WerewolvesAreReal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerewolvesAreReal/pseuds/WerewolvesAreReal). 



> After all the feels in the original story, I couldn't stand for Laurence and Tharkay not to address their feelings for each other! This is how that went down, with (of course) much introspection on Laurence's part.

Laurence continued to protest as the Jade Dragon lowered him to the ground, clearly meaning to deposit him here, and still speaking nonsensically of an exalted companion. He found himself in front of a striking black dragon with a delicate ruff, a breed that he had not yet encountered.

He could not imagine how his life had come to involve so many dragons: he was at least grateful to feel no fear of them; otherwise these last weeks would have been spent in constant terror.

From the elegant complex -- predictably, he supposed -- more dragons were emerging with a great clamor, including another of the large black ones. Laurence addressed himself to the dragon in front of him, who seemed to have senority, given his size and apparent age. “And while I do not in the least find this behavior acceptable -- “

A man emerged from under a black wing; Laurence turned to him, hoping that a human might help set matters straight, even though this one was not British. 

A name came into his mind: Tenzing. Tenzing Tharkay. And it was not just a name, but a rush of everything -- all the deserts and moutains and oceans that he and Laurence had traveled, and the battles and card games and conversations, easy and not. And now he saw that the second black dragon, who was almost upon him, was Temeraire. 

“Oh,” he said faintly. “I apologize; perhaps I am the one who is insane, after all.”

Tharkay stepped forward to clasp Laurence by the arm, a gesture Laurence returned with feeling. Peering closely, Tharkay said blankly, “You are filthy, and you have no neckcloth.” Laurence laughed in relief and looked to his dragon.

Temeraire let out a wordless sound of joy and twined around him, catching poor Tharkay up as well, who was still looking stunned. And Laurence, thousands of miles from England, felt it a homecoming nevertheless. 

\------------------------------------------------

_Three nights pass, during which Tharkay absented himself, was found, and was then abducted, together with Laurence, by an agitated Temeraire....as told in the lovely[A burden shared](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039985)_.

\------------------------------------------------

When they landed, Temeraire deposited the pair on a hillside in sight of the lake. The Summer Palace overlooked the water, surrounded by even rows of trees. Laurence, shaking out his legs, stepped out of Temeraire's talons and turned to Tharkay. “I would offer apologies for this journey, except I begin to suspect that I am not entirely at fault.”

Tharkay looked at him impassively.

“You have hidden something from me,” Laurence said.

“It is no longer of any importance,” said Tharkay. “And I would not have had you think -- “ he stopped.

Laurence frowned. “Why would you hide it? Surely you could not fear censure.”

“Censure, no, not from you; if there is nothing technically inappropriate, you might look sideways and frown all you like,“ Tharkay said bitterly, “though you would never _censure_ for this. But any man may be brought to resentment.”

“You thought I might resent you?” Laurence asked, baffled. “For helping Temeraire? I hope I am not so petty as that; on the contrary I should rightfully owe you the world. It is a great comfort to me, the greatest comfort, to imagine that you will be with Temeraire should I die.”

Temeraire made a sound of alarmed protest.

“But Laurence, you are not dead,” said Tharkay. “I am honored to have been of service to Temeraire, and will now take my leave.“

“You certainly may not leave!“ Temeraire declared. “Laurence said you were trying to get stabbed. You are my captain; I cannot allow you to endanger yourself.“

Tharkay looked apprehensive. “Temeraire... _Laurence_ is your captain,“ he said carefully.

“Of course he is,“ Temeraire agreed. “Whyever should he not be?“ 

To Tharkay's raised eyebrow, Laurence said quietly, “Temeraire considers himself to have _two_ captains now.“

Tharkay looked incredulously at the dragon, who seemed quite satisfied with himself. 

“I am the only dragon with two captains, everyone says they have never heard the like: though of course I did not _mean_ to have you both, since I did not know that Laurence would return.“ His tail curled possessively toward Laurence. 

“Anyway it should not seem so strange: Incan dragons have _allyu_ , and Tswana dragons have whole villages, and British dragons have crews, although crew are not quite the same as captains,“ Temeraire paused. “I suppose someone might object; but you have said Arkady would not, and in any case, he did not take proper care of you, so it is no more than he deserves. Perhaps the admiralty would complain, since they complain of so many sensible ideas: but I am sure they will see that you are far too valuable to lose, and I am doing Britain a great service by keeping you.“

Tharkay stared at the dragon.

“I certainly do not object, my dear,“ Laurence said, laying a hand on Temeraire's side. “I imagine there will be complications, but that is nothing unusual where you are concerned.“

“Temeraire, I cannot continue as your captain, now that Laurence is returned.“ Tharkay repeated: “It would be best for me to depart as soon as possible.“

“Oh! Tharkay, it is not because I was careless with you?“ asked Temeraire, ducking his head guiltily. ”Churki says I should not have lost track of you so easily. I shall take far better care, in the future.” Tharkay looked even more alarmed.

Laurence watched Tharkay with amusement. ”The attention might chafe at first; I hope you will become accustomed to it. And know that you are truly welcome: if I had any reservations, please trust that I would voice them. I assure you that my loyalty toward you has only grown, if that is even possible.”

“Laurence, your generosity does you credit, but you have not thought this through,“ Tharkay replied firmly, ”And I cannot stay.”

Laurence considered what might lie behind Tharkay's protests: he had not explained why his departure was necessary, and he had avoided Laurence's company for more than two days. He hesitated to intrude upon the affairs of even so dear a friend as Tharkay, but with Temeraire's well-being to consider, he felt he had no choice but to press the issue further. 

”Since I returned, you have stayed away,” Laurence said. ”Now you mean to leave us, though you have not explained why.” He paused to allow Tharkay to answer; when only silence followed, he continued: ”You have mentioned resentment. Though the thought is in discord with everything I know of you, one might conclude that you prefer my memory to my person.” 

Tharkay's eyes widened. ”I beg your pardon.” He glared at Laurence and continued, ”I sought out Temeraire thinking that I might ease his grief. I discovered that I preferred his company to any other, for my own sake: everyone mourned you, in their ways, but it was only Temeraire who felt as...bereft as I did. And for you to suggest that I would _prefer_ \-- that you would...” His face darkened further, and Laurence hoped that he only imagined a slight twitch of a hand, toward one of his knives. ”Do not insult me so.”

Temeraire looked between them, his ruff raised in concern. ”Tharkay is right, Laurence, or he could not have become my captain. He was the only one who truly liked to hear me speak of you, though others might nod politely out of kindness. And even when we did not speak and only sat quietly, I could always tell when he was thinking of you, too.” 

Tharkay still held Laurence's eyes, with an air of defiance. ”Temeraire believes that he acquired another captain in your absence. It would be equally true to say that I had been _acquired_ ” -- his tone was sour -- ”years before, and not by the dragon.”

”Forgive me,” Laurence said quietly, looking down. He was overcome with shame for having questioned Tharkay so, and for having provoked such an extreme profession of devotion. He could scarcely imagine how such an independent soul as Tharkay could feel Laurence to have any sort of claim upon him. 

”I do understand, Laurence,” Tharkay said, with a sigh. ”You do not view our friendship in the same light, so I did not expect you to understand my motives. But perhaps now you see why it is better for me to leave.”

Laurence's brow furrowed. He had long been glad of Tharkay's companionship, but he never had reason to consider in what light he might view their friendship. 

Any mission Laurence might attempt would certainly fare better with Tharkay's participation, and of course his feelings went beyond gratitude for such a valuable comrade. He felt genuine affection for Tharkay's reserved manner and dry wit: now he thought also of the pleased triumph he felt on the rare occasions when he caused Tharkay to smile, or even more rarely, to laugh. 

Once they had overcome their mutual suspicion, it was only natural that their trust should deepen, and for camaraderie to flourish over the course of all their travels. But perhaps that was not the usual way of it for Tharkay: to Laurence's knowledge, the man had no other close companions, and generally chose the company of raptors -- and even feral dragons -- over that of men. Yet, he had stayed with Laurence, or come to him, in the most difficult of times, and when no duty might compel him to.

If Tharkay's presence were merely an expression of loyalty or gratitude, there would be no call for him to leave now. If his desire to depart were merely a question of wanderlust, he could certainly say so -- such a sentiment would not suprise even his most casual acquaintance. 

Laurence could only conceive of one bond that could summon and repel the man with such strength, and that he would be unable to state plainly. Laurence blushed to consider himself the object of such an attachment, but as far-fetched as it might seem, he could not dismiss the possibility: it explained Tharkay's actions all too neatly.

And if it were true, of course it would be unconscionable to press him to stay. The man had done so much for them already; to impose further when it might cause discomfort and he was clearly unwilling would be a betrayal of Tharkay's trust and friendship. 

But Laurence could not be happy of such a departure. Their previous partings were sharp in his memory; in fact, they stood out in a career that involved frequent farewells to well-loved comrades. He remembered his melancholy after Tharkay's departure from Australia, which he had at the time attributed to the lack of distraction from his exile. But he had to wonder now if that were truly the cause: if he allowed himself to imagine Tharkay leaving again, he could feel the same melancholy descending. 

He found himself casting about for circumstances that might allow Tharkay to remain with them, and could imagine only one: if his feelings were reciprocated. The idea should have been unthinkable; eight years ago -- or three mornings ago -- it would not have occurred to him as a possibility. 

But Laurence had, many thanks to halting conversations with the very man in question, come to a deeper understanding of duty and honor: in a matter such as this, he was obliged to honestly consult not just convention and law, but also his heart and conscience. He could well imagine how Tharkay's own conscience might answer such a question. 

He studied his friend, who was gazing at something, or nothing, past the rows of trees.

He marveled that he could feel no hint of protest, beyond a reflexive care for society's expectations. In place of any revulsion or mortification that he might have anticipated, he felt only warmth and a familiar _completeness_. He could not think when or how he had come to feel this way.

He recalled an evening long ago in Madeira when, against all reason and expectation, he had chosen an unknown future in the Aerial Corps with Temeraire, rather than returning to his life as a naval captain. That choice, which by any standard should have been a difficult one, had not even felt like a choice all: Laurence had merely spoken aloud what was already done, even if he had not fully known it. He looked fondly at his dragon, who was watching him intently, before he turned to Tharkay.

”I fear I must apologize again,” Laurence began slowly, bringing Tharkay's gaze back to him. ”This time, for not having seen how matters stood between us.” Laurence forced himself not to look away. ”There are many reasons I might not have...attended to my -- high regard for you,” he struggled, and paused to recover himself. ”Perhaps the best explanation is simply that with Temeraire as my companion, I did not think that I could desire any other attachment. 

”But I believe I have the right of it now.” Laurence found himself stepping forward to gather Tharkay's hands into his own: gently, so as not to trouble his injuries, or to startle him into reaching for a knife. ”Tenzing, I do not wish to be parted from you again.”

Tharkay looked at him and said nothing, though he did not pull away. Thinking to make his meaning as clear as possible, Laurence slowly raised one of Tharkay's hands, and brushed a careful kiss on the top of it. The other man started at the contact, his eyes flicking to their hands, and remained silent. 

Laurence looked at him, suddenly uncertain. ”But -- have I misunderstood?”

”You have not,” Tharkay said quietly, with an expression that Laurence could not interpret. ”Only, it is taking me a moment to adjust to...these turns of events. Will, just three days ago, I thought I would never -- we thought we had lost you.” Laurence felt a hint of a shudder through the other man's hands.

Laurence drew him forward and put his arms around him: Tharkay turned his face into Laurence's shoulder, and Laurence listened to the unsteady breathing.

”You did not lose me,” he said softly, ”I am right here.”

”Tharkay, please, we have no cause to be sad anymore,” Temeraire said, nosing at the pair. 

”And I do not wish you to think that you are my captain only because I was lonely, or because we both belong to Laurence.” That drew an indelicate sound from Tharkay, whose face was still hidden. 

”You taught me many useful things, about trees and wind and speaking Nepali. And you taught me about singing, though I am not sure how that is useful, even if it is quite nice to have while we are flying.” Laurence raised his eyebrows; he had not known Tharkay could sing. 

”And since Laurence is returned,” Temeraire continued happily, nose bumping Tharkay again, ”we might also listen to books together again, and of course defeat Napoleon.”

Seeing Temeraire's open affection and this glimpse into the past weeks, Laurence finally understood the full sense of loss that had driven Tharkay to the worst quarters of Peking. ”When I returned,” he said softly, ”you believed that you would be Temeraire's _former_ captain, and unable to continue with us at all: you believed you had lost both of us.” He held Tharkay closer, and felt him lean into his chest.

”Of course you have not,” said Temeraire. ”And if that is what you feared, then it does not make any sense at all for you to leave: I suppose that means it is exactly what you would do after all.” Disconsolate, Temeraire dropped his head onto his forelegs.

”I hope I am not so contrary as that, ” Tharkay said after a moment, drawing away from Laurence to address the dragon. 

”Temeraire, if I were to remain your captain,” he said thoughtfully, ”I would not stay with you all the time. I might part from you for days, or even weeks at a stretch.”

Temeraire considered this. ”British dragons do not separate from their captains so: if I do not mind too much, it must be because I am Chinese. But you must promise to be very careful, and not get stabbed, or imprisoned, or tortured.” With a glance at Laurence, he continued, ”Or drowned, or shipwrecked, or flogged, or anything else that neither of you has tried yet.”

Tharkay's mouth quirked. ”I will do my utmost to avoid any of those unpleasant circumstances.”

Temeraire nodded and looked at him expectantly.

Tharkay considered each of them for a moment longer, then joined his hands again with Laurence's and gave a small smile. ”Very well. If both of you are truly committed to this lunatic notion, I can hardly be the one to insist on following convention.”

Temeraire gave a satisfied rumble, and Laurence felt the familiar pleasure of seeing Tharkay's smile turn full. The three of them stood close for a long moment, saying nothing. 

\------------------------------------------------

That evening, Laurence and Tharkay saw a contented Temeraire settled in his pavilion, and sat with him until he dozed off. Laurence lingered only in part to enjoy the peace of the moment; he could admit to himself that he was also skirting the awkward questions of precedence forced by two captains bidding the same dragon goodnight, not to mention his uncertainty over what bidding goodnight to Tharkay might entail. 

”Temeraire has made aviators out of a British sea captain and a half-Nepali wanderer,” Tharkay mused as they finally made for their lodgings. ”I wonder whom he might conscript next. Has he by chance met any French pirates? Or an Incan goldsmith?”

”Oh, lord, Tenzing,” Laurence groaned, looking behind to make sure the dragon was truly asleep. ”Pray do not give him any ideas.” 

As they reached Tharkay's door, Laurence was in equal measure relieved and disappointed when Tharkay said, ”Will, I hope you will not take it as a reflection on your company, if I do not invite you in this evening. I am in much need of a quiet rest.”

”Of course.” Laurence willed himself not to consider alternatives to a quiet rest, and instead took Tharkay's hand and pulled him close enough to touch their foreheads together for a moment. ”Good night, Tenzing, and I will look forward to bearing you company tomorrow.” 

He did not add the words, ”...and all the days thereafter,” but as he walked away, he rather thought Tharkay might have heard them anyway.  


**Author's Note:**

> Their second night as co-captains is sure to be an interesting one, should anyone care to write it. :)


End file.
